Hey Rockstar
by Gambitgirl1974
Summary: Two Brotherhood boys have some problems...let's let them work it out. AvalancheXQuicksilver, eventual slash, yaoi.
1. Chapter 1

The other Brotherhood boys went straight to the kitchen as their leader stomped past them. Avalanche's face contorted into something almost unrecognizable and he fisted his hands in his hair as he crashed through the house.

Toad's eyes widened at the sound of Avalanche's heavy boots crashing up the stairs in anger. "How mad do you think he is yo?"

A snarky sigh emanated from behind the open refrigerator door, "And 3…2…" the silver haired teen counted down. The loud slam of Alvers' door put the cherry on top of the Brotherhood's already craptastic night. Quicksilver sniffed disdainfully at his amphibious cohort as he made a huge sandwich in 4 seconds. "Let me think," he said sarcastically, tapping a slim finger on his pointed chin, "The X-men have like 3 times as many people as us, so they whipped our asses again, Lance completely lost control and blasted a sinkhole a hundred yards across, which his jeep promptly fell into, and on top of that Blob was caught by the cops!"

Toad swallowed nervously and looked up at the sound of thumps coming from the ceiling directly over his head and right under Alvers' stompy feet. He sidled a few steps to the right until he stood under the door jamb, "So…yeh….guess he's mad."

"Idiot," Pietro sighed as he finished his sandwich in a blur. "I think complete fucking pissed off is more accurate. And where the hell are we going to get bail money for Fred? We are BROKE!" His voice hit a volume that made dogs bark a street over.

As if in answer there came a sharp crack of something shattering upstairs. Toad winced and hopped into the den, turning on the TV and cranking up the volume to drown out Quicksilver's shouted "Goddamnit, Alvers!" as the speed demon sprinted upstairs and began hammering on his teammate's door.

"Quit throwing a fucking tantrum, Avalanche! It's not like this is the first time we lost!" We're losers. It's what we do! Now quit breaking shit!" Pietro yelled through the door as his hand beat an accelerated tattoo against the creaking wood.

"Argh, go away," Lance's voice muttered darkly and Pietro heard another thump as something heavy hit the floor.

"Hey, I TOLD you to"-Pietro threw his shoulder against the locked door "QUIT" again "BREAKING" it was giving now "SHIT!" The lock crashed through the already frail doorjamb, splintering it as the door crashed open and slammed heavily into the wall, leaving a hole in the drywall. The weak light from the dirty bulb in the hallway cast a sparse strip of illumination into the otherwise dark room. As he stepped over the threshold Pietro's boot crunched down on something. He toed it aside and stared into the shadows as he snarked, "Why you bust the fucking lamp? It didn't sink your jeep, boulders for brains." Pietro reached over and flipped up the switch for the overhead light.

"Fuck, turn off the light!" Alvers was standing next to his bed with his back to the door, clutching his skull. "It's too bright," the darker boy snarled.

"Whatever Dracula," Pietro rolled his eyes. "You need to come downstairs and help us figure out how to get Fred out of j-"

"Argh!" The earthshaker's legs suddenly contracted under him and he kneeled almost spastically, bent double, and ground his face into the floor, "Fuuuuuuck, hurts" he moaned.

"What the -" Pietro stammered, surprised at the genuine sound of pain, not anger, in his teammate's voice. He slapped the light off and scrambled over to his captain. "Dude, what's wrong? Did one of the X-men-" he hissed, crouching by the folded over form of his teammate.

"My head," the brunette moaned. "My powers….too hard, ugh, too long…shit, feels like a drill behind my eyes." One of his hands suddenly left his head and shoved right into Pietro's surprised face, knocking him aside. The silver-haired teen gave an angry huff at the abrupt facepalm that he quickly bit back as his friend vomited heavily into the nearby wastebasket. Wrinkling his aquiline noise, Pietro fished around in the near dark and snagged one of Lance's t-shirts, which littered the floor in abundance. When the bigger boy lifted his head weakly after emptying his stomach Pietro handed it to him to wipe his face.

"Light makes it worse?" Avalanche nodded carefully, one hand clutching his forehead as though the slight movement would cause his aching brain to crack into a thousand shards. "Let me guess, you get dizzy if you sit or stand up?" Quicksilver queried, mentally checking off a little list as Alvers gave a grunt the silver boy assumed was a yes. "You got a migraine, man. A bad one." Pietro slung one of Lance's arms around his neck, careful to avoid coming into contact with any residual barf, "C'mon you have to lie down. I got you."

The brunette heaved himself to his feet with his friend's help, "What you a doctor now?" he said weakly but with familiar sarcasm.

"Just because I don't care enough about school to do any work, doesn't mean I don't know anything," Pietro snapped waspishly as he none-too-gently plopped his friend on his bed. "You know I don't sleep more than ," the smaller teen buzzed irritably, his speed overtaking him as usual when he was huffy.

"English," Lance muttered as one forearms came up to lie heavily over his eyes, covering most of his face, which was strained in obvious tension. Pietro took a breath, held it for what felt like 2 days to the speed freak but was actually only 3 seconds in normal time. "I read a lot, ok. Anything, everything that catches my eye, medical journals and magazines lately. Migraines can last hours easily and can get a lot worse." Lance moaned angrily then winced as the pain intensified with a sharp throb that made his teeth clench.

Pietro tutted prissily at his patient, "Chill out, Lance, I picked up a few ideas that might help," When Lance made a weak shrug the speedster was gone in a flash and back just as quickly. A wonderfully cool, damp cloth was pressed to Lance's forehead as his teammate's hands pulled off the shoulder and chest plates of his dark blue uniform.

Avalanche pushed away the silver haired teen's hand from the zipper at his throat, "I can do it myself." Sitting up on one elbow as he unzipped and pulled off his uniform top made his head spin and the room wobbled dangerously to the left. Lance firmly squashed down the urge to lean over the bedside and puke again.

Pietro stifled a smirk that threatened to sneak over his face at Lance's ill-disguised nausea and typical tough guy attitude. It was pretty clear he wanted to spew but Mr. Macho was in the house. But he swallowed any jibe he's planned as his captain sunk back on the bed again with quick grimace of pain as the migraine throbbed once more, like it was pounding his head apart from the inside out.

"Ok, a bunch of doctors say acupressure on certain nerve points can help. Just don't get all weird on me," Pietro quipped as he sat on the edge of the bed, next to Lance's sprawled form, grabbed one of the other teen's hands, and began pressing into the web between the thumb and first finger as he looked for the right pressure point. "Or a hard-on," he teased his friend.

Lance snorted inelegantly, "Pietro, you might be gay as a picnic basket and a remorseless slut, but even your standards aren't this low. I'm dying." Then he then winced as something that felt like a hot wire stabbed at the back of his eyes.

"Ok, Mr. Invalid, you're obviously not dying if you have enough energy to be a catty bitch." Quicksilver smirked as he felt the right nerve point and began to massage it with firm pressure.

"Not yet. Still, keep it above the waist," Lance returned with dark humor.

"Whatever, Neanderthal. You know I like my boys twink as a Disney character anyway, so don't worry that I'll lose myself to temptation," Pietro scooted up the bed a bit and reached for the crook of Lance's shoulder where it met his still battle-grimed neck, using just the tip of two fingers to press and rub small determined circles at the correct spot. "Your smell alone is putting me off big time."

Lance shifted, the damp cloth sliding over his eyes, "Yeh, Toad tried to slime Daniels and got me." Quicksilver repressed a shudder and used his knee to nudge Lance's nasty uniform top off the bed and onto the floor.

"Huh, that does help," Lance said quietly, a surprised tone in his voice, as Pietro's small ministrations on his neck made the flaring pain recede a bit. Pietro resisted the urge to say "Told you so," and instead leaned slightly over his friend to work the other side of the boy's neck, careful to avoid any lingering traces of barf or slime.

"A bit better," the brunette sighed, his breath ghosting lightly over Pietro's neck as the silver haired youth leaned back.

Pietro smothered a small flinch at the prickling intimacy of the sensation on his skin. Bleh, Lance was just so…Lance. Who had been slimed and had almost hurled all over him. Eurgh. This was his teammate and someone who clearly didn't know how to use hair products, in addition to an unwashed dirty laundry list of other blargh things. But Alvers was a friend who needed a little help, so Quicksilver resolved to think of England and carry on.

Pietro got another washcloth from the bathroom and wet it, then returned to his captain's room. "At least clean yourself up a bit, you're gross." Lance sat up on one elbow as he swiped away the grime and smoke of the battle from his face and neck, as Pietro sat behind him on the bed and began working the nerve point at the base of his skull.

"Guh…ahh…better," Lance sighed and leaned more heavily into his friend's ministering hands.

Pietro sucked in a breath as the brunette leaned his back again his stomach and relaxed. "Don't get too comfortable," he snipped as his finger pressed again and again into the softer spot between the cords of muscle that ran the sides of Avalanche's neck. The dark teen grunted noncommittally even as he leaned more of his weight back into Pietro's touch.

The speedster sighed internally and moved his hands around Lance's head to rest pale fingertips on either side of the earth-shakers nose and pressed gently but grimly and he slid his finger up between his eyebrows and back out again to his temples, steadily releasing the painful sinus pressure. The pads of his finger rolled small circles into his friend's temples for a few moments, then returned to their starting point and started the sweep over again. Then again. And again.

Lance's breathing evened out and the vein that had been visibly throbbing in his forehead slowly disappeared. Pietro, usually so accustomed to life at near light speed, found himself relaxing at the measured pace of Avalanche's breath, the slow and steady up and down bellow of his chest as he relaxed. The slow thump of the dark teen's pulse under his fingers as he once again traced his nose, then forehead, temple, then cheeks with each pass started to zone out the silver haired mutant. Absently as his finger once again swirled over Lance's temples, his threaded his finger briefly into the hair and stroked back once, before again returning to the slow, hypnotic circles of the bigger boy's face. Cheeks, nose, eyebrows, forehead, temple, hair, return. Once more. Again.

After an indeterminate time, Pietro heard a light snore and realized his teammate was finally asleep. He shifted slightly to work his way out from under Lance's pressing weight, then froze as one sleepy hand wrapped gently around his forearm, keeping it in place just over the dark boy's chest. Avalanche's muttered something in his doze and his hand tightened once then relaxed as he fell once again into deeper slumber.

Pietro sighed, not wanting to disturb his friend's much needed rest, and grumpily settled back. As he sat there irritably calculating a list of way his friend owed him one, his fingers once again settled in dark hair and began an absent-minded rhythm.


	2. Chapter 2

There was gore, flying body parts of varying shapes and sizes, and blood. Absolute buckets of it.

Quicksilver wrinkled his nose at the poster, "I'm don't really want to see this, guys."

"Yo, it was your turn last time, and we had to watch some 2 hour bullshit about penguins." Toad hopped up and down in place with excitement. "This week I get to pick so get ready for 'Zombies Eat Your Face'! YEAH!" He hopped again and high fived Fred.

"Aw right, bring on the zombies!" Lance clenched his fist with excitement and the sidewalk shifted under their feet. Several people stumbled and the crowd muttered, looking around with worry.

Pietro shot a speedy elbow into his friend's side. "Cool it, Lance!" he hissed, "Don't bring the house down." The brunette gave a half-hearted shrug as he ambled over to the concession stand and pushed his way to the front of the line, ignoring the yells of "Hey, no cuts!" and greeting others with glares that shut up the complainers.

Halfway through the movie, Pietro was positively contorted in his cramped theater seat, rocking back and forth with one leg tucked up him, the other drawn up until his chin rested on his knee, with one arm wrapped around him holding himself tightly. His free hand squeezed his sugar-free, caffeine-free, taste-free soda so tightly he was in danger of crushing the cup.

He hate, hate, HATED scary movies.

When the zombies tore into their first victim he'd squeezed his eyes shut, but that only made the squishing, ripping, and slurping noises blaring from the surround sound that much worse. He tried to plug his finger in his ears while keeping his eye shut, but Fred and Todd pulled his hands free, insisting he was missing the best part. If by best part they meant the high-speed anatomy lesson splashing in front of them in IMAX clarity, then he would have been thrilled to miss it.

Pietro alternated between strained swallows as he tried to keep down the popcorn that wanted to make reappearance each time intestines went flying, and clenching his teeth to keep the shrieks of fright that bubbled up from his gut each time the undead burst through a wall to throttle another victim.

Lance, seated between the silver haired teen and Toad while Fred took up most of the row behind them, shot a side glance at his friend. Pietro's huge pale eyes were glued to the screen as a scantily clad girl ran down a dark alley as he muttered, "Don't go in there, don'tgo inthere, don'tgointheredon'tgointheredon'tgointhere." He was positively trembling with anxiety and the effort to smother the urge to scream as a shambling figure missing at least two limbs pursued the fleeing girl.

Lance elbowed Tolansky on his other side then jerked his head at Quicksilver, mouthing, "Watch this."

Lance kept one eye on the screen and the other on his teammate, as the girl realized she was trapped and the zombie staggered closer. The music wound up to a fever pitch and Pietro's eyes were as wide as saucers. He chanted"Lookuplookulookuplookupstupid!" and the hand holding his drink trembled. Another zombie dropped from the ceiling onto the terrified girl who let out a deafening blood curdling screed, the audience screamed, and Lance grabbed the blonde's knee and shouted, "RRRRAAAAAAWWWWWRRRRR!"

Pietro jumped straight into the air with a high-pitched shriek, arms and legs flailing, and dumped soda all over himself and Lance. Despite the soaking, Avalanche and Toad collapsed with laughter as Pietro stood in the aisle, shivering and stark white with surprise. His hummingbird-speed heart rate skyrocketed from the shock until all he could feel was a pounding buzz that thundered in his ears. He glowered at the two idiots he was forced to live with, an ugly look passing over his normally smooth features. He grabbed the giant tub of popcorn from Fred and upended it over Lance's head, showering him in kernels and synthetic butter. He then jammed the bucket down on the laughing brunette's head and gave it a few solid thumps before he rocketed out of the theater to return home for a shower. Sprite soda was surprisingly sticky and by the time he sprinted to the restroom he thought he might have some kind of friction burn from running in wet jeans.

Pietro cursed and muttered to himself as he showered, "Stupid asshole, going to kill you, $10apopseehowfunnyyouthinkitis!" He tried his damnedest to run out the hot water but after 5 minutes in the shower, 4:30 longer than he normally took he couldn't take it any more and stormed to his room, utterly waterlogged. He wore a track in the carpet down to the padding as he paced in anger, thinking unimaginable tortures to visit upon the unluckiest rocktumbler in Bayville.

Plotting and scheming took a lot out of a mutant apparently because Pietro woke up to the sound of his housemates as they crashed noisily into the house after the movie. Cursing them, Pietro yanked a pillow over his head and tried to ignore that the 3 boys made only slightly less noise than a rampaging herd of rabid buffaloes. The pounding on his door only made him burrow his head further under the pillow.

"C'mon Pietro, you're not still pouting in there, are you?" Lance's voice sounded from the other side of the door.

"I am NOT POUTING!" Quicksilver cringed at the whiny sound of his voice. "Just leave me alone!" He flung the pillow at the door with enough speed that it burst with a flurry of cheep stuffing.

"Whatever, man, you just can't take a joke." Lance sounded impossibly amused and the chuckle that followed him down the fall grated on Pietro's nerves like a thousand nails on a chalkboard.

At the sound of the shower and Lance's happy humming in the bathroom, an evil smirk crossed Pietro's face. If Todd or Fred had found that malicious expression directed at them they could have beaten even Quicksilver's speed for crossing state lines. The silver teen darted down to the kitchen and was outside the bathroom door in a flash.

Listening to his housemate's unconcerned humming stoked the flames of Pietro's anger even higher. Make a fool of Quicksilver, would he? We'll see.

The bathroom door proved no obstacle, thanks to Tabitha blasting the lock out months earlier. He pressed one eye to the crack and saw a billow of steam spill over the top of the shower curtain and heard his teammate's oblivious humming as the boy cleaned up, unaware of his impending doom lurking just feet away.

Pietro crept as slowly and quietly as his normally fizzing reflexes allowed and stood at the end of the tub, listening carefully until the time was right. Lance was humming low and slow as the water pattered down in a soothing fall, curls of steam seeped through the cracks in the curtain, and the smell of Old Spice body wash wafting on the saturated air.

Slender pale fingers teased the edge of the curtain momentarily as Pietro waited for the right moment. Lance's hums burbled as he apparently ducked his head under the spray for a rinse. In a flash Pietro ripped back the curtain and raised the giant butcher knife high as he let out a piercing scream that shattered the mirror over the sink. "AAAAAAEEEEIIIIIIIII!"

Lance whirled in surprise, the hand that hand been grasping his cock flew up to cover his head as he saw Pietro lunging at him with the knife, the razor's edge flashing in the cheap fluorescent light. "AAAGGGGHHHHHH!" His other hand shot out for something to hold onto and grabbed the shower curtain just as his foot hit a patch of body wash under his feet. He went ass over elbows over the edge of the tub, tearing down the shower curtain in the process as he shouted, "DON'T KILL ME!"

Pietro clutched his sides in hysterical laughter as his friend scrabbled on the floor away from him, the shower curtain flailing around as it tangled with Lance's legs and one arm. Todd and Fred appeared in the doorway, took one look at Lance fighting the grimy curtain and doubled over with laughter. When Lance raised his head and shot them amurderous glare they quickly shuffled away, still snickering.

As the earthshaker clambered to his feet, cursing the stupid curtain as it refused to let go of his legs and caused him to hop on one foot ungracefully Pietro twirled the knife lazily between his fingers. He smirked as Lance finally kicked away the curtain with a final well chosen swear.

"You scared the shit out of me with the knife!" Lance shouted.

"Not so funny now, huh, rock head?"

"I could've bashed my brains out falling out of the tub!" he growled at the arrogant silver-haired teen eying him with undisguised glee.

"Would've needed something a lot stronger than tile to smash out those rocks you call brains," Pietro laughed again.

Lance kicked the destroyed curtain to the corner of the bathroom then leaned into the severely cracked mirror to eye the growing goose egg that was blooming on his forehead from where he'd banged his head. "Not funny Pietro!" he snarled at the fractured reflection of his teammate. He prodded the swelling lump with one finger and winced, then turned to shoot a dirty look at his friend. "That was so not the same as me scaring you in the theater."

"Oooooh, didn't know there were rules in a prank war," Quicksilver said sleekly as he eyed his disgruntled teammate. Then he EYED him, up and down, and flushed red. He coughed pointedly.

"What?" Lance thundered stalking towards Pietro, knife be damned, he was going to throw the little speed demon through a wall when he got his hands on him.

Pietro coughed again, "For god's sake, cover that up!" He flushed an even deeper shade of scarlet as his eyes unwillingly darted down once more.

Lance's eyes followed his and he looked down, the erection he'd had the shower having deflated significantly since the abrupt interruption of what had promised to be an overdue wank. He snorted and reached for the one towel that looked slightly less nasty than the others on the rack. He scoffed at Pietro as he wound it around his waist, "For a queer, you sure seem to have a problem looking at another guy's junk."

Pietro stiffened and the knife in his fingers stopped twirling. Lance took a half-step back as he remembered the knife. The silver-haired teen collected himself quickly and sniffed disdainfully, "I do not have a problem looking at guy's junk, just yours."

His embarrassment and anger combined into a rather lurid flush across his tanned face. "Hey, what wrong with my junk?" Lance flared.

"Oh nothing, nothing," Pietro said airily now that said junk was safely covered, although it still tented the towel somewhat. Before he could stop his always overactive brain, a flash of what he'd seen in the shower right before he'd screamed flashed before his eyes. Lance with one forearm braced against the shower wall, the muscles in his shoulder and back tense as his free hand circled and grasped the tan shaft. The thumb on top teasing the head as strong fingers toyed with the hard veins that ridged the underside. Lance's face upturned to the weak shower spray, dark wet hair smoothed back again his skull, lips slightly parted as he hummed in pleasure.

Pietro shook his head quickly to jar the disturbing mental image out of his brain. Then he gave Lance a special look he reserved for the X-men and dissections in biology class, one that resulted in his lip curling on one side. "It's just attached to YOU," he said with as much disgust as he could manage.

Another mental image swept over him before Pietro could school his thoughts. Tanned buttocks clenching and relaxing as the stroke carried up then back again, Lance humming deep in his throat at the sensation of his hands and the water sliding over his head, beading over shoulders before the drops traced lazy trails over bunched muscle as they travelled down to sink into the sharp V at his hip and disappear inward.

"Up here, dude," a deep, amused voice interrupted Pietro's little flashback. He wrenched his eyes up from where they had, against his will, meandered down to the cord of tendon and flesh at his teammate's hip where it disappeared into a towel that clearly needed more coverage capability.

Pietro looked up into the brunette's dark eyes that felt like that were burning a hole into him and swallowed audibly, before he said confidently, "I've seen better," not at all feeling as arrogant as he sounded. He resisted the urge to take a step back from the dark teen, suddenly feeling like his personal space was being crowded even though the other boy leaned back again the sink, one strong arm raised to ruffled his damp hair with another towel.

Lance turned his back to the silver-haired teen and started lathering shaving cream onto his stubbled cheeks. He caught Pietro's eye in the cracked mirror and winked. "Uh-huh, you just keep telling yourself that."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Once again, I own nothing. Marvel does. TRAGIC!**

**I like a little teasing, it's sooo fun. But I promise I'll give you full "realization" by the end. The next chapter will be a bit more serious, but still sexy. It'll be up in 2-3 days.**

**In the meantime, I'm a comment whore so please feed the beast!**

"Damn, it's hot, yo," Todd muttered, flapping one webbed hand at his face in an effort to cool down.

"We know," Pietro drawled sarcastically as he flicked a sweaty lock of silver hair out of his eyes.

"It's ain't fair, yo, the hottest night of the summer so far and the power goes out," the amphibious boy groused.

"Well, maybe it wouldn't have died if SOMEONE didn't have to have the thermostat at 68 degrees. The A/C is like 40 years old, it can't handle it," Lance muttered, shooting a dirty look at Blob.

The gigantic teen ruffled a hand over his wilting Mohawk. "I don't like to sweat while I sleep," he said with a shrug.

"But it's okay to sweat when you walk, when you sit, when you talk, hell even when you eat right?" Pietro huffed, once again batting a sticky hank of snowy hair from his cheek.

"You're one to talk," Todd snarked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he crouched on one arm of the ratty sofa parked on the front porch where the Brotherhood boys had decamped when the power went out, and they realized the inside of the house was hotter than outdoors. "Who blasts the stereo while they blow dry their hair? You can't even hear the music, yo."

"Just because some of us don't care about their appearance-"

"Ok, knock it the fuck off," Lance barked, silencing the bickering. "We all messed up." He'd been running several power tools in the garage while trying to shim a rotor and fix a busted axel on his jeep while Todd used the stove. They all had a hand in blowing half the circuits in the dilapidated boarding house, and there was no use to trying to fight their way through the junky basement in the pitch dark tonight. Best leave it until morning.

"So shut up and deal, Speedy," Lance pointed a finger at Pietro's sweaty face and got the middle finger in response, even as the cards were passed out at lightning speed.

They boys gathered around an old Coleman gas lantern on a battered coffee table on the porch, shirtless in the heat and sweating hard in the muggy summer humidity. To pass the time and boredom, as a result of having no TV, music, or anything else to do, they played poker. Almost completely broke, they had no money to gamble but traded chores, dares, homework, and any other creative bargain they could think of.

"Ante up."

"Make breakfast 3 mornings in a row."

"I see that bullshit."

"I raise cleaning the bathroom."

"How many times?"

"How long's it been since someone cleaned it?"

"I dunno, months?"

"Ugh, I think once is enough for now. No need to kill anyone."

"Alright, you pussy. Call."

"Your dad's a pussy."

"I don't know my dad, so for all we know he is a pussy."

"Shut up and show your hand."

"Heh, two pair. Fours and jacks."

"Fuck me!"

"Only if you ask nicely." Pietro fluttered his eyelashes exaggeratedly at the Toad as he scooped the betting slips away from the other teen and towards himself.

"Not so fast, Quickdraw," Lance stilled the pale hand with his dark calloused one. "Trip 8s. Don't forget to use bleach on the tub, I want pancakes for breakfast, and don't even think about putting bleach in the food."

"Fuck me!"

"Only if you ask nicely," Lance laughed and swept the slips to his side of the table.

"Ha, nice one, you!" Toad cackled from his perch.

Blob belched his agreement, loud and wet, as Pietro rolled his eyes. Lance took a swig from his rapidly warming beer, gave a long rumbling burp, paused to take a breath then finished it up with a nice staccato "fuck. all. you" at the end.

Toad and Blob bent over laughing as snowy haired teen made another disgusted noise through his nose.

"You are such a girl, Pietro." Avalanche punched his friend in the shoulder.

The pale teen's eyes narrowed dangerously. "And you are all disgusting," he huffed then took a deep breath and-

"!"

The sound of three jaws hitting the grimy porch was all that could be heard as the monster belch echoed then faded.

"THAT is how it's done." Pietro smirked arrogantly, shuffling the cards at lightning speed with one hand as he stuck one finger under Lance's chin and shut the other boy's mouth with an audible click.

"Christ, I think I tasted that one," Blob muttered with awe. The only sound that was heard for a few long moments was the patter of rain as the storm that had been threatening all evening finally broke over their neighborhood.

"A girl, eh?" Pietro grinned at Lance as the dark teen's surprised expression melted into a wide grin and he shook his head in mute appreciation of his pal's range of talents.

Several more hands passed, with the take evenly split between Pietro and Blob: dishes were covered for a week, trash for a month, and Blob had to walk to school for 3 days while Pietro had to do the grocery shoplifting for this weekend.

This hand was brutal, every boy convinced he had it in the bag, and the bets were getting more and more ridiculous and crazy. Move Principal Kelly's car to the roof of the gym, sneak into the X-mansion and steal Cyke's uniform, attempt to pants the Wolverine during the next battle, spit-shine Xavier's head. On and on it went until they ran out of ideasat least until the growing breeze from the storm wafted Toad's ripe scent downwind.

"Ugh! Todd has to take a bath," the green teen's eyes widened comically in horror at Lance's suggestion, "every week," his mouth was open and slack as a fish on the shore, "for a MONTH." His brown eyes narrowed sharply at the smelly teen as Fred and Pietro cackled evilly at his shoulders.

"No way, man. No way!" Toad gasped in panic.

"You fold?" Lance tapped the edge of his cards on the table, his face giving away nothing but amusement.

"I-"the green boy swallowed audibly. "Ihell no! If I win none of YOU can take a shower for a month." He grinned yellow teeth at the discomfort that flitted over his teammates' faces.

"I fold," Quicksilver announced decisively. "No way do I want any of that action. I just spent a fortune at Bath & Body Works, and I haven't event tried out their new White Tea & Ginger bath gel." Blob folded also with no comment.

The absurdity of what the silver teen said flew over Lance's head as he mulled over not bathing for a month versus having a month to clear the house of Todd's natural funk. "You're on, show 'em if you got 'em," he decided.

Todd threw down his cards with a flourish and hopped up and down on the sofa's arm. "Full house, yo. Ah yeah, Ah yeah, get it get it get it!" A little cabbage patch, some running man, a little hammertime, and Todd was on stinky cloud 9.

"Royal flush," Lance grinned and fanned the Ace through 10 of clubs under the celebrating teen's nose. "Pietro, get the soap."

"What? No!" Todd shrieked and tried to run, but Fred's meaty arm shot out and caught him in a wriggling, thrashing headlock.

Lance and Fred dragged the squealing frog boy out into the pouring rain, ignoring his screams for mercy. Fred held his arms up and behind his head in a fell nelson as Lance held his breath and dragged the younger boy's pants down and off, leaving him shivering in only his ratty boxers.

Pietro appeared in a blur of pale skin and hair, his mouth and nose covered with a pollen mask, yellow rubber gloves up to his elbows, the never used toilet brush in one hand, and a bottle of Palmolive dishwashing liquid in the other.

Lance shot an eyebrow at his friend's attire and choice of weapons. "We need the strongest stuff we have for this job," Pietro reminded him as he doused the toilet brush with the soap. "Gird your loins boys, I'm going in!" he cackled as he attacked the Toad with the brush and bubbles, going right for his armpits.

It took both Blob and Avalanche to immobilize the squirming teen enough for every foul nook, cranny, and crevice to receive a thorough and merciless scrubbing at the hands of the laughing speed demon. By the time they were done, Todd was a whimpering, squeaky clean limp mutant, all the fight gone out of him.

Blob finally put the teen down, but Lance kept one firm hand around his buddy's throat. "Don't even think about rolling in anything, Todd. Got it?" The serious look on his face softened as his little friend sniffled and nodded before shuffling back into the dark house and up to his room to cry inconsolably into his pillow at being sofresh.

Fred followed, determined to not let any food go to waste in the slowly warming fridge, leaving Pietro and Lance standing in the front yard in the pouring rain. The dark teen turned his face up to the sky, letting the downpour slam down on him, and laughed long and hard. Pietro couldn't resist the infectious sounds of his friend's laugher and tittered as he ripped the mask off his face and stripped the gloves to throw them into the growing muddy bog under his feet.

He bent over at the waist as his giggles got the better of him, "Did-you-see-his-face-"the silver boy gasped between laughs.

"Oh god, he acted like that brush was a gun or something!" Lance hooted and slapped his teammate on the back, not calculating that the force, coupled with Pietro's bent over state of hysterics, would launch the snowy teen face first into the muck. When the smaller teen's blue eyes opened and flared at him from a face full of mud, Lance struggled to steel his expression into something properly remorseful. Quicksilver aiming that sort of look at anyone was enough to send a shiver down one's spine.

Before he could form an apology, a slim leg shot out behind his knees, and the earthshaker went down on his back with a splat and a positive fountain of muddy water from the churned up lawn.

"Oh, so it's like that, eh?" He grinned at his teammate, a flash of lighting illuminating his bright smile so it stood in stark relief to his tan skin and the muddy water streaming down his cheeks.

"Oh yeh, man, it's on! Gimme your best shot," Pietro dared, crouched and grinning, as his captain sat up and clenched his fist. The already slippery mud under their feet liquefied as the ground trembled.

"Can't use that speed if you can't keep your feet under you," Lance taunted as the earth roiled and shifted under the speedster.

"Who said anything about feet?" the filth-spattered pale teen laughed as his hands blurred and suddenly dozens of handfuls of mud pelted the dark boy like a Gatling gun. He raised his hands blindly to shield his face and the ground stopped moving. A moment later he was lifted off the ground at the speed demon wrapped his arms around his waist and heaved, so the rocktumbler went ass over elbows to land on his side in the mud.

"You're stronger than you look," he panted, grinning from his prone position at Pietro standing over his, a crazy gleam in his eye as the lighting flashed again and a roll of thunder boomed so loudly the ground shook with no help from the mutant.

""I'm full of surprises," the smaller laughed as he held out one hand as a peace offering, grabbed his friend's forearm, and leaned back to pull him up.

Lance allowed his friend to drag him to his feet before he locked his hand over the offered forearm and pulled hard, his free hand gripping Pietro's wrist as the other teen tried to twist away from the trap. Lance spun them suddenly and had his teammate pressed against him, back to front, his arm bent into an arm lock that forced Pietro's wrist up between his shoulder blades. He leaned forward and pressed his cheek into Pietro muddy hair. "Surprises, yeh," he rasped, and the other teen shivered despite himself.

Pietro's breath stumbled at the heated caress of Lance's breath in his ear and unconsciously arched his back at the sensation. Suddenly he was shoved away and free ; for a moment he felt a twinge of regret then shook himself hard to clear his head. Circling warily he leveled an appraising look at Avalanche, water streaming from his long hair and into his eyes as the dark teen copied his motions and slid to his left, completing the circle.

"C'mon, make your move, Rockstar," Pietro challenged, bracing his back foot on one of the few patches of solid earth left in the mire. Lance unknowingly telegraphed his next move as Pietro's quick sight caught the subtle shift of weight to his right foot and his strong hips turning to add force to the impending lunge. As the dark teen threw himself forward, Pietro neatly pivoted on his back foot and Lance dove right past him, sliding in the mud several feet before he came to a rest with the silver teen suddenly on his back.

A filthy but slender and powerful arm snaked around his throat as Lance tried to push up against the surprisingly heavy weight of his teammate. He managed to get to his knees before Pietro, with a shimmy of his hips against his backside, neatly tucked on thigh between Lance's and shoved his legs apart, overbalancing him so he once again fell into the muck.

"Gotcha!" Pietro taunted as he pushed down once more. Lance's head came up with a curse, hitting him right in the nose. Pietro gasped at the pain and the momentary loosening of his grip gave Alvers' all the advantage he needed to flip them both and pin Pietro under him. He gripped the other teen's hands in his larger grip and pinned them over his head.

"Ha! Can't top me, Pietro! Now I got YOU," Lance panted heavily, his chest pushing down into his friend's with every ragged breath of exertion. Quicksilver's eyes widened at the blatant innuendo and the sensual crush of the larger teen's strong torso pinning him to the earth. So strong and solid, and suddenly Pietro's heart raced from something unrelated to the fight.

A blinding flash of light and the world shattered with a crash that shook the ground beneath them. Lance fell off his friend and stared as a second bolt of lightning hit the transformer at the end of the street. Pietro rolled over in time to see it explode in a spectacular shower of sparks and the entire neighborhood plunged into darkness. The only light the continuing stabs of wildfire from the skies.

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO YEAH!" Lance shouted at the sight, punching one grimy fist into the air. Pietro gaped at him, his mouth open is shock.

"Are you crazy? Let's go inside!" He crawled to his knees and tried to grab Lance's elbow to drag him indoors.

The bigger boy shook him off, "Hell no! Did you see that! That's fucking awesome! YEAH!" Lance shrugged him off and stood up, fists clenched over his head as he shouted, celebrating the raw power of the storm. Lightning flashed again, so close Pietro could feel even the soaked hair on his arms and the back of his neck tingle. The immediate boom of the thunderclap nearly knocked both boys down again, so powerful they went once more to their knees.

"C'mon, let's go inside!" Pietro once again tried to grab Lance, and drag him out of his apparent insanity.

"No, Pietro! It doesn't get more real than this!" the dark boy grabbed both his teammate's arms in a fierce grip, pulling the silver teen towards him. "There nothing more real!" He shook Pietro, staring into his eyes, and the wild light dancing in them made the next flash of lightning pale in comparison. "WOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Lance flung his head back once again in response to the fierce, dangerous beauty of the storm as it raged around them. He appeared untamed, even savage, as his grip tightened once more on Pietro arms as he stood them both up and shouted over the crashing thunder.

"C'mon, Pietro! Let it go! Just go with it!" He laughed, the strong planes of his face illuminated haphazardly as another strike cleaved the sky. "WOOOOOOOOOO!" Lance turned his face up once more to the raging storm his eyes closed, the inviting cords of his neck almost tempting Pietro to lean harder into his powerful grasp.

"I don't understand!" Pietro shouted back, overwhelmed by the feel of Lance's strong hands on him, gripping him ferociously. Lance's expression was so intense that the power of the storm dimmed in comparison to his unexpected wild exuberance and strength. "I don't understand, Lance!" he shouted again, trying to be heard over the thunder as it once again boomed so close it pounded through them like a giant's heartbeat.

"C'mon 'Tro, just yell, let it all out! There's nothing more powerful than THIS!" Lance yelled, leaning into his friend's face, pressing his forehead to the other teen's. "Right here! Right now! This is life, man, can't you feel it? IT'S AWESOME!" He flung his head back once more, basking in the raw energy of nature roaring around them, tearing up their civilized world even if just for one night.

Pietro eyes widened as he looked up at the dark boy gripping him almost painfully as he was baptized by lightning. The ENTIRE sky fractured into a dozen blinding shards behind him, illuminating what was truly real, what life was, what true earth-shattering power felt like.

Pietro's hands scrabbled up to clutch at Lance's long hair and he threw back his own head as he screamed at the sky, laughing wildly at the same time, " YEAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" It felt amazing, every worry and thought just thrown out into the storm to be blown away on the tempest, leaving him only a mass of sensation and raw, honest need.

The hands at his biceps vanished only to reappear, one at the back of his crooked neck and the other in his own muddy hair.

"'Tro," the dark teen muttered, his husky voice suddenly so close, ragged but immeasurably strong as forceful hands on Pietro's neck wound viciously, sensually in his hair pulled him in hard and sure. "God 'Tro."

"Woooooo," the silver boy sighed as he gripped Lance harder, the rain beating a sacred tattoo on his upturned face.


	4. Chapter 4

**I am a comment whore so please feed the beast!**

**This scene was inspired by a gorgeous pic on DeviantArt by the incomparable rainrach, who is the goddess of Lietro fan art. You can see it here: ****.com/art/You-Complete-Me-Lietro-71004795**

**NC-17 to say the least**

**Flamers welcome, you feed my perversions! **

"We are the champions my friennnnnnnds! And we'll keep on fighting till the ennnnnnnd! We are the champions, we are the champions! No time for losers cuz we are the champions of the wooooorrrrlllldddd!" Pietro shrilled as he finished showering. Despite his sister's violent reappearance in his life, he had to admit she was a stellar addition to the Brotherhood crew. The way they took down those X-geeks tonight! Hot damn!

"We are the champions! We are the champions!" yodeled Fred from downstairs where he was setting up a celebratory game of Asshole, courtesy of some beer Quicksilver had boosted on the way home from the fight.

"Idiots," Wanda snarled as she slammed the door to Mystique's own old room behind her, locking other the boys out of her gloomy retreat.

"Aw, c'mon snookums, don't you wanna celebrate?" Toad pleaded at the door. Wanda managed to hex him through the keyhole, so the boy morosely hopped off with one leg noticeably shorter than the other.

Pietro slithered into a clean pair of jeans and white t-shirt and threw his dirty uniform over the stair railing, missing the hamper on the landing by a mile. Toweling his platinum hair, he continued to sing as he strutted down the hall. "No time for losers cuz we are the champions-hit it Lance!" he shouted pointing an imaginary microphone through his teammate's door at the dark haired earthshaker, who was perched on his windowsill.

A grunt was all the response he got. Refusing to have his karaoke spoiled, Peitro pranced into the room, twirling his towel over his head. "We are the champions! Weeeeeeee are the champions-take it away Avalanche!" He shoved the invisible mic right under his friend's nose.

"Hmmf…of the world," the brunette sighed with a half-hearted smirk when it was clear his teammate wouldn't stop before he sucked on his smoke again.

Pietro eyes widened, and he smiled slyly. "Ahhh, wanted celebrate solo, greedy greedy." Pale fingers flashed and he was sitting on the bed across the room, taking a deep toke of the good shit, before Lance ever realized his joint was missing.

"Hey! Give that back!" he snapped.

"No, I'm comfy, not getting up," Pietro teased as he flopped back on the bed, with his head hanging over the edge upside down. Since that night in the storm Pietro's previous indifference to his teammate had changed into something like a jittery little fizz of nervousness and attraction. At a loss as to how to handle it the speed demon fell back on his favorite coping mechanisms: sarcasm and being annoying. And some flirting; it came naturally and the bed was actually pretty comfy.

Lance grumbled and left the sill to plop down on the floor next to him. Leaning his back against the side of the bed the dark teen held his hand out impatiently for the jay.

Pietro smirked at him from his inverted position as he took a deep toke into his mouth then parted his lips slightly to let the smoke creep out as he inhaled through his nose.

"That's not how you smoke," Lance noted as he snatched the joint back and inhaled sharply then held his breath as he fought down the urge to cough.

"It's called a French inhale, and it's European. I'm very continental," the platinum haired speed demon said knowledgably before he took the spliff once more and dragged in a big, over-the-top manly inhale, dramatically puffing his cheeks out and rolling his eyes at Lance. When the other boy snorted disdainfully then gagged on his own smoke, coughing hard, Pietro made a mental tic mark in the victory column.

"Fuck, agh, that hurt," Lance choked, thumping his chest.

Pietro took another smooth toke and French inhaled again. "It's about style, not power, Rockstar," he said sagely, winking at him. He tilted his head to the side, eyeballing his friend on the diagonal, and said, "You try." The look on Lance's face clearly showed his skepticism. "C'mon, stupid," he huffed. "Just suck and hold it in your mouth like a cigar."

"You make everything sounds dirty," the dark teen chuckled before he took a moderate puff. Pietro's mastery of innuendo was practically a mutant gift in its own right, if he did say so himself.

"Ok, now just open your mouth a little and DON'T-" he waved his hand in front of his water eyes, "-exhale, moron. Now you're just wasting it. Give it here!" He tried to snatch the jay from his friend, but found his wrist caught in an arm lock that left him weedless.

"Lemme try again," Lance insisted, holding Pietro's trapped hand. "I don't know how to do this fancy shit, gimme a break." He loosed his grasp but didn't let go the pale hand as he inhaled once more and parted his lips.

The silver haired boy subtly trailed his fingertips over Lance's palm and inspected his effort. "Ok, just let the smoke trickle out, then slooowly inhale through your nose. You got it!" Pietro giggled at the unexpected sight of his muy macho buddy whiffing it just like a French art hound.

"Hmm, not bad, think you can taste it better like this," the other boy said, abstractedly as the potent bud worked its magic.

"Well, that's ok only if it's the good stuff. Do you really want to taste that Mexican skunk Toad got last time?" Pietro shuddered at the memory. "And hello, pass that shit!" He waved his now free hand in front of Lance's face, which was relaxing from its previous pensive expression.

"Oh, sorry," he said, grabbing Pietro's hand as it flashed in front of him to put the joint in it. The pale teen could've sworn he felt an echo of his previous caress against the inside of his wrist.

"Ta muchly," the pale boy said, as he pursed his lip for another draw. "So what are you doing up here? The party's downstairs, and it's time to celebrate. We totally kicked those X-nerds asses."

"So?" He dark teen shrugged leaned his head back against the bed, the side of his face an inch from Pietro' shoulder.

Pietro inspected his friend as sarcastically as he could from his upside-position, his sleek silver eyebrows rising to the floor. "So? SO? We never win! And we didn't just win, we pounded them!"

Lance huffed and shoved a hand roughly through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. Just as attitudinally challenged as its owner the hair promptly flopped back down into his eyes. Pietro resisted the urge to tuck one of those locks behind his friend's ear. His high and Lance's closeness had his imagination making unexpected little leaps.

"So? Then we fight them again, and we win or we lose. Then we fight them over and over and over." Lance brows drew down in a hawkish frown.

A white cloud of sweet fragrant smoke circled their heads and both were quiet for a moment until Lance shifted, casually leaning his head again Pietro's shoulder as he muttered, "Does it matter? Nothing changes."

Pietro slit his eyes against the smoke and peered closely into his friend's face, only inches from his, a little unsettled by the moody turn the conversation was taking. "What's eating you?" the pale boy queried. It wasn't like Lance to get all broody. Yes, he was MOODY, sulky, snarky, and grouchy, but brooding wasn't his thing.

The dark teen sighed and closed his eyes. "How is what we're doing making a damn bit of difference for mutants? Is trashing a mall improving anything for us?"

"Well, no but-" Pietro was on the verge of giving one of Magneto's platitudes about fighting for mutant superiority against Xavier's band of naive dreamers.

Lance cut him off, "I just don't know what the hell we're doing. Do you?"

Pietro inhaled contemplatively on the joint and let its heady effect slip over him further, before he boldly reached over and stuck the smoke between Lance's lips. "Magneto's got plans. One day we're not going to have to hide, we're going to be able to be out in the open and-"

"Sure," Lance drawled, rolling the smoke between his fingers and staring at the slowly burning cherry. "So what ARE the big plans? For us to have the same fucking boring, pointless lives as normal people? Or does he have some kind mutant paradise in his back pocket?"

Pietro shrugged, peering into his teammate's upside down face. "I don't know. He just says things will be better when the human accept mutants…well, accept we're better than them. He doesn't tell me any details. Hell, he barely even talks to me." Pietro pushed the bitterness away with a vague gesture that swept his fingers over the top of Lance's head; after a moment they unconsciously returned to play with the dark strands.

Lance settled his cheek more comfortably against Pietro's shoulder, closing his eyes. His breath tickled Pietro's neck as he spoke once more. "Some great future…we don't even know what it'll be."

Pietro's contemplated that nugget of truth and sighed, "I just have to believe that it's going to get better one day." He nudged his friend with his shoulder, making him look at him. The dull pain in that dark gaze felt like a heavy weight settling on his own chest. He wanted to take the hurt away, but was uncertain how, his mind befuddled by the intoxicating drug.

"Lance, can't we just savor the moment or the victory or whatever?" His hand absently stroked over dark hair, his friend's nearness almost as heady as the pungent purple kush. 

"Yeh, I know," the brunette murmured, tired of thinking himself in circles. It wouldn't be decided tonight or probably anytime soon. Best to not think about it, think about something better. "Shotgun."

Pietro's face was starting to redden from being upside down for so long and his confused expression made the dark teen grin. "Huh?"

"Thought you were continental. Open your mouth, dumbass," Lance smirked then took a deep drag and leaned in.

Apparently Pietro wasn't the only master of innuendo around here. The speedster's eyes slid lazily to half-mast as he parted his lips. The pale teen almost forgot to inhale when Lance's tan cheek brushed his as the dark teen exhaled millimeters from his lips. He was definitely high as hell now and the cloying scent of quality weed had nothing on the tangy scent that seemed to be all Lance. Pietro closed his eyes to savor the sensation as he held his breath then let it out slowly. He could feel Lance's cheek brushing his still.

The dark teen was so close and Pietro's nervousness got the better of him. He shifted his head back a few inches, regretting the distance almost immediately. "Uh…so…what do you think we'll do when mutants don't have to hide?" Suddenly his head snapped up to an upright position. "Do we have to get jobs?" Pietro shuddered at that last word.

"Yeh right!" Lance said, laughing hard at the idea "I can see you now, 'Hey, I work at Wal-Mart and I can stock all the shelves in 30 seconds!' You'd be employee of the month in no time." He poked Pietro on the head in jest and for a moment the pale teen swore he felt fingers lace through his hair.

"You are definitely stoned if you think that's going to happen. Can you picture me in one of those smocks?" Pietro snickered. "You'll do something destructive and dirty, I'm sure, like mining or demolition." Pietro outright laughed at the image of Lance in a yellow construction helmet and orange safety vest.

"Heh, jobs, that's rich," Lance chuckled, shucking a rough hand through his unruly hair once more, calloused fingers briefly tangling with Pietro's own on his head, before his hand dropped to his side once again. "That's what normal people do when they grow up," he continued, brow once again furrowed as his mind strayed back to a troubling subject. "What are we supposed to do? Does Magneto expect to be soldiers forever or something? Do we have a choice?"

Pietro's eyes slid lazily over his friend's face, taking in the mussed brown hair and serious expression. "I changed my mind, you are not stoned enough if you are still thinking about this crap," he said huffily, plucking the joint from his friend's fingers. "Shotgun, bitch."

"You're the bitch."

"Hmm, sometimes. The rest of the time I'm an ass."

"That's true."

"Just open your mouth and take it, Alvers."

"You definitely make everything sounds dirty." Lance grinned, his eyes unfocused as he leaned closer. Misjudging the upside down angle, he ended up knocking Pietro in the nose with his chin.

"Ow, damnit. That's not how you do a shotgun." Pietro rubbed his face.

"Maybe I wasn't trying to, 'Tro," Lance muttered in an amused, low voice before he lowered his head and brushed his lips across his friend's. Once, twice, feather light but full of potential.

For a moment Pietro froze, his mind tumbling in whirlwind of random, nervous thoughts. What did this mean? Why it because Lance was high? Did his breath smell okay? How clean was this shirt? Damn, that's nice. Did Lance like him or was he just messing with him? What the hell is that on the floor? Was his bodywash too flowery? God, he's got nice lips. What the hell am I doing? Was there something besides pot in that joint? Mmm, he smells so good. What the hell is he doing?

Just as quickly as Pietro's mind spun away from his control it quickly resolved itself into just one thought, "Don't sit there, stupid, get it!"

The pale hand that had been toying with Lance's hair turned into a fierce grasp as he pulled the other boy's face to his, hard. The angle was awkward, upside down as it was, but Pietro didn't care, especially when he felt the miraculous and sinful slide of his friend's tongue tease his lips.

Lance thrust his hand deeply into Pietro's silver hair and did amazing things that made little jolts of pleasure dart through the pale boy as he deepened the kiss. When Pietro sighed at the tantalizing feel of fingers against the nape of his neck, Lance took advantage and slid his tongue in to stroke and caress Pietro's with growing heat.

All thoughts of hesitation or doubt evaporated at the sizzling feel of Lance's tongue teasing his and the wildfire that suddenly burst to life in Pietro's veins. He moaned without restraint and grabbed the back of Lance's head, desperate for as much contact as possible. With a need apparently as great as the pale teen's Lance scrambled onto the bed and pressed his body sensually against his friend's. Dark hands brutally twinned in silver hair as he bent back the pale face to attack the hummingbird fast pulse hammering in the slender throat.

"Ah…AH!" Pietro cried at the pleasurable thrill of rough hands and tongue. Spurred on by Lance's almost violent passion and his own long denied need, he fisted both hands in the boy's black shirt and wrenched him up to seal his mouth over Lance's and plunge his tongue in roughly. The need to feel, taste, experience everything about the dark teen overwhelmed him as they battled for dominance.

"C'mon you guys, it's time for Asshole!" Fred shouted, startling both boys so suddenly Pietro bit Lance's lip and tasted blood.

The thunderous look on the earthshaker's face rivaled Pietro's spike of anger, but before the silver teen could shout a scathing retort that would surely blister Fred's ears Lance shoved free and stalked to his still open door.

"FUCK OFF!" he shouted with venom that even made Pietro's blood run cold. At least until Lance slammed his door shut with a vicious bang and threw the lock with a decisive click that made something start at the base of Pietro's spine. The dark teen stormed over to his stereo and with one hand slapped the CD player on and cranked the volume up as he tore his black his t-shirt off with the other.

Pietro didn't waste time as, with a smirk of pleasure, he ripped his own shirt off and threw it to the floor. Before it even hit the grungy carpet Lance crawled up the bed on his hands and knees, stalking the silver haired teen with a predatory look. He crouched over Pietro, dark heat boiling like back coffee in his eyes, and grinned the way a shark does before it take a pound of flesh.

"You bit me."

"I'll do it again if you come here," Pietro promised, reaching greedily for that tanned muscular chest as he slid down to lick and tongue a dark nipple. God, the taste of him was so undeniably masculine. Cigarettes and sweat and something all Lance, rough and addictive. So unlike the other boys Pietro had been with who were so delicate and effeminate that he had to force himself to be gentler than his nature preferred. The brunette was intensely desirable in his very opposition to what Pietro had always found attractive, so utterly male and powerful.

Lance hummed in pleasure at the feel of Pietro's dancing tongue then swore when teeth sunk in once more. "FUCK! Mmmm yes." One hand cupped the back of the silver head as the other slithered down to grab Pietro's ass firmly and shove their hips together.

Pietro moaned at the crushing feel of the hard cut planes of muscle and tendon that bore down on him firmly without compunction. The press of the strong body above his assured him they could give and take each other's powerful touches and fierce grasps in equal measure, and it was thrilling. He bit harder and was rewarded with another sensual, almost painful, grind of Lance's hips against his.

"God, 'Tro…mmm shit…like that," Lance groaned as Pietro licked and bit his way across his chest to attack the other nipple, worrying it to a hard tip. Encouraged by Lance's curses and gasps, the silver teen sucked hard and flicked rapidly with his tongue throwing some speed into the mix.

Hot breath in his hair, then his ear, sent spikes of heat down his spine to pool in his groin. "Talented tongue, 'Tro," Lance panted, raising the hair on the back of Pietro's neck, before he slid his own tongue in to tease the pale ear then suck on the pulse point just behind it, sending the pale teen's heart rate into overdrive. "Do it again," Lance demanded.

The heated imperative in that voice made Pietro shudder, and he practically squirmed with pleasure as Lance continued pouring dirty, bossy things in his ear like spoiled honey, encouraging his oral explorations. Not needing to be told twice, Pietro latched onto the delectable crook of Lance's throat where it met his shoulder and sucked hard. The earthshaker gasped and roughly grabbed one of Pietro's slim legs and wrapped around powerful dark hips, working powerfully against the other teen's slim strong frame with passionate and brutal thrusts.

One particularly precise and hard stroke made Pietro throw his head back and groan as Lance's strong thigh ground firmly against his denim trapped erection.

"Like that, 'Tro? Want more?" Lance panted before he kissed Pietro again roughly, tongue plunging in time with his hips as he wrenched another harsh, needy noise from the young man in his grip. "'Tro….uhh…god! Tell me and I'll give to you," he rasped, breaking away for a moment to level his penetrating dark gaze at the silver teen.

"More…ahhh shit…moremoremoremore," Pietro chanted breathlessly as he forced Lance's lips back to his for a moment before the brunette plled away once more with a lingering lick that trace the dip in Pietro's upper lip.

"Specifics...want to hear you say it," Lance whispered insistently as his tongue drew fiery paths down Pietro cheek to his neck then back to his ear, where it dipped in once more. "Use that talented tongue, 'Tro, and fucking tell me what you want!" he demanded, gripping the silver teen's hips hard and grinding down once more.

"AH! AAH! Shit, grab my cock!" Pietro almost shouted. He couldn't take anymore of this shit, this torture, this sadistic teasing. He needed something hard and hot and sweaty and fuck he needed it now.

Lance thrust his tongue into the pale teen's ear once more before he jerked up with an evil grin, ripped apart Pietro's button fly and yanked his jeans down and off without any preliminaries. Before Pietro could even catch his breath to compliment his speed all thought of coherent speech fled at Lance's firm, searing grip on his shaft. Pietro almost bucked off the bed, but Lance pinned down him with a powerful forearm across his waist as he leaned down to lick and bite at acres of bared abdomen and enticing pale flesh as his other hand expertly stroked the speed demon to a near frenzy.

A wave of molten pleasure pulsed through Pietro in time with each sweep of calloused hands and nipping teeth. His heart pounded so hard it drowned out their ragged breaths and moans, even the music pouring from the speakers. Pale hands slid down to stroke the dark hair teasing his torso, marveling at the contrast of the smooth strands to the stubbled jaw sensually scraping the sensitive hollow of his hip.

He wanted this to go on forever, nothing felt this amazing, nothing even came close to the blistering, incredible lightning that sparked his every nerve ending each time Lance stroked down to his base then up to circle the head with his thumb. He closed his eyes against the sight of the dark head sliding across his skin and Lance's tongue circling his nipple to tease it to hardness. Pietro was unable to focus on anything but the indescribable waves of jolting heat that leapt from each caressed inch of needy skin to the next.

"Hnnn…ahhhh…so good…Lance…Lance," he sighed, his hips twisting uselessly in the other mutant's intoxicating and strong grasp. Pale finger twisted in dark hair, pulling hard to yank the Lance up into another rich kiss. The brunette hummed into his mouth, the vibration an unexpected added pleasure.

The smooth glide of their now sweating bodies, the feel of slick hard muscle under their hards rendered both boys almost drunk with need. Ragged, whispered encouragements of "yes" and "more" battled with wanton groans and grunts as they dragged each other to new heights of sensation and want with each bite, lick, caress, and stroke.

Pietro wanted to hear more, needed to know Lance was affected as he was. He got his answer when he thrust his hand down the back of the brunette's jeans and dug his nails into one wonderfully hard cheek. Lance flung his head back in ecstasy at the mixed pleasure pain as he stroked Pietro faster and shouted, "'TRO!"

Pietro shoved his thigh into the earthshaker's groin, vibrating it suddenly with his mutation, desperate to wring more hot sounds from the powerful mutant pressed against him.

"Mmmmm…MMMMM FUCK…again 'Tro…gah agai-" Lance hissed, his back arching into the sensation, pushing his hips forward again once more even as he never let up his tormenting grip on Pietro's shaft.

Quick as his mutant name Pietro drew down the other teen's zipper and reached in to grab what he'd been thinking about endlessly since the prank in the shower. God, it was even better than he remembered, hard, thick and so hot Pietro couldn't resist saying so.

He leaned up to hook his teeth into Lance's earlobe, drawing the boy down closer to him and hissed, "This is what I wanted….god, touching you…shit…you making those sexy noises…so hot, so hard, gotta have it gotta-AH! Harder!" He gasped when Lance suddenly licked his rough palm then slicked it once more over Pietro's aching cock. The speed demon bit the bare shoulder in front of him and moaned as he licked the broken skin then allowed his tongue to slip once more into Lance's mouth.

Between ragged breaths and frantic slides of muscle and flesh Lance panted, "'Tro…hmmm...you gotta…mmmm…feels so fucking good…make you come-SHIT!" Lance shouted as the silver teen shoved him hard onto this back and, with the same motion, shoved his torn jeans down to his knees before straddling him.

"You first, Alvers," Pietro smirked as he twisted one nipple, hard enough to make the other boy gasp, and then slid his fingers into Lance's mouth. Pietro's hips rocked as Lance sucked hard, his tongue sliding up and down, teasing the sensitive pads with incredibly erotic promise as dark eyes melted into ice blue. The temperature in the room seemed to raise each second Pietro undulated against his teammate, unconsciously wanting a different kind of penetration. He withdrew his fingers, slicking them down Lance's dark jaw and across one nipple to toy with it momentarily. He relished each thrash and hissed swear from Lance because of his touch before his hand darted down and immediately set an insanely fast pace on Lance's cock.

Fingers moving faster than Lance could almost see, pale fingers feathered, teased, stroked, tugged, rubbed, and tantalized every ridge and vein before sliding over the head then down again to repeat the same torturous path.

"'TRO! AAAH!" Lance's back bowed under the pressure rising in him from the silver teen's fantastic touches. One rough hand shot out to grip a pale bicep in a crushing grasp as the other came down to grip Pietro's smooth shaft as it slid against him. Rather then trying to match his lover's speed Lance's grip was sure, measured, and undeniably strong. His long powerful strokes stoked Pietro's lust higher as the pure strength and sure masculinity of Lance's touch drove him crazy. It was nothing like the fluttering butterfly strokes of his previous lovers and it was mind-blowing and knee shaking and made Pietro want to scream. Lance's steady, intoxicating pull drew him upward in steady pulses towards climax.

Pietro's back stiffened suddenly as his orgasm broke over him in pounding waves that robbed him of all words but "Yes yes yesyesyesyesyesyessss." Lance sat up, never breaking his rhythm to grab Pietro's hair and force him into a messy kiss, no finesses only fire and lust and heady need. He shouted into Pietro's mouth as he bucked against the silver teen's torturous touches as he own orgasm hit him so hard it was like a two by four to the back of the head. The hand on Pietro's bicep snaked down around the speedster's waist and clenched him desperately as Lance came in 3 hard spurts, panting as he swallowed Pietro's own harsh cries.

Pietro surged into Lance's fierce hold, his own arm wrapped around the dark teen's neck and he rocked and shivered and moaned as he shot onto the earthshaker's luscious abs. The crushing embrace, their combined sweat and scent of heavy arousal, the sizzling feel of slick, sticky flesh made Pietro writhe in abandon, his hips snaking back and forth as he rode out the last of his orgasm.

After their breathing slowed and hearts returned to normal pace, Pietro started to get up, but a rough hand clamped on his arm.

"Where are you going?"

"To clean up."

"You're coming back." It wasn't a question, more like a firmly stated fact.

Pietro's first reaction to make a snarky retort melted under the intense, smoldering look Lance leveled at him. "Yeh, of course," he said softly as he reached over to run his finger through those dark strands once more before he tugged on his jeans.

Once in the bathroom Pietro considered taking a shower but decided against it. Lance's delicious scent hung heavy on his skin and he wasn't in any hurry to rid himself of it. He settled for splashing water on his face and brushing his teeth before he wet a washcloth and wiped off the dried evidence of their play from his stomach and thighs.

When he returned to Lance's bedroom with another damp cloth Pietro was amused to find the dark teen hanging his head backwards over the bed, artfully French inhaling another joint.

"Now you're continental, practically French," he joked as he sat next to him and smoothed the cool damp cloth over those delectable abs he figured could easily spend hours tracing with his fingers and tongue.

Lance raised his head as he passed him the joint and grinned. "I know continental is just your word for gay, 'Tro."

The pale teen shivered pleasurably at the nickname. Lance only called him that at certain times, and it made something flutter in his stomach. "You caught me. Should I give you the honorary toaster we give all new members before I teach you the rest of gay code?"

"I'm not gay," Lance stated flatly.

Pale fingers froze, the joint suspended halfway to his lips. He froze as though a new ice age had blown through the room.

Lance let him squirm on the hook for a moment before he laughed, "God the look on your face, 'Tro!"

"You're an asshole," the speed demon snarked bitchily as he drew raggedly on the spliff.

Lance sat up and put his arms around the silver teen, "I don't want any other guys, stupid." One calloused hand traced through platinum hair before fingers teased the back of Pietro's neck, followed by lips that peppered his skin with warm presses before Lance murmured in his ear. "Just you, 'Tro. Just you."

Pietro barely resisted the urge to sigh in relief. "Uh-huh," he blew a cloud of sweet smoke into Lance's face and smirked. "Prove it, Rockstar." Even with his speed he couldn't avoid the sudden tackle that pinned him, laughing, to the bed.


	5. Chapter 5

**After all it took to get these two together, I wanted to give them a fun sexy chapter. Next one will have plot, the "finale" and then I'll end it because I don't intend for this to become a loooong story.**

**Thanks to my reviewers, you keep me updating!**

**Flamers, welcome, you feed my pervisity!**

**I'm a comment whore, so feed the beast and review!**

"W T Fuck are you doing?" Pietro doubled over with laughter, clutching his sides.

"Shut up and help me!" Lance yelled, struggling vainly to pull his hands from his head.

Pietro wrinkled his nose at his friend and, more exactly, his grimy, slimy state. "Hmm." He stood a few feet away at a safe distance, surveying the scene. "What'll you give me for it?"

"A black eye if you don't get over here," Avalanche offered in irritation as he tugged once again and winced at the pain.

"Domestic violence is generally frowned upon, and wouldn't you need a free hand to do that?" Pietro snickered.

"C'mon, just help me!" the brunette begged, brown eyes pleading and Pietro knew his resistance was done for. Stifling a sigh, but not a humongous roll of his eyes, he stepped in and cautiously touched one slender finger to the mess that was his friend's head.

"What the hell did you do?" he asked in part wonder and part exasperation.

"I was changing the oil in the jeep."

Pietro scoffed, "That doesn't explain why your hands are stuck to your head with…what the hell is this?" He sniffed the orange goo plastered to the back of Lance's head and almost recoiled at the harsh, chemical smell.

"My hair fell in the drip pain. Five thousand miles of used oil. Tried to get it out," Lance growled as Pietro tugged experimentally, pulling a few of his friend's fingers free and a tuft of hair with it.

"With what? Super glue?" Just when he thought he'd seen everything.

Lance turned and, with the elbow of his left arm that was tangled in his long hair, pointed it in the direction of a jar sitting on the workbench.

Pietro examined it and hissed, "Automotive degreaser? Are you brain damaged?" He looked at the mess on Lance's head. "Never mind. Exhibit A."

"Just help me, damnit!" Lance shouted.

"I will, but my god Lance, don't you know even the basics of hair care?" Pietro snarled as he untangled another two of his friend's fingers, finally releasing one of his hands from the unholy mess.

Lance's now free hand closed around Pietro's arm in a vice grip. "You can lecture me later, get me loose or I swear-," he with in a dangerous tone.

"Ok, ok, calm down. I won't leave you stuck like this," Pietro soothed. "Just unclench your fist, stupid. Now move your thumb…ok just a few more, there we go," he announced victoriously. A moment later, "Um…whoops?"

"You did NOT just say whoops. What whoops?" Lance brought his newly freed hand to his face and yelped at the huge clump of hair stuck to his fingers. "OH SHIT!"

"Well, you've needed a trim for a while," Pietro teased. Wrong thing to do, as his shirt was suddenly fisted in two nasty, hairy, goo covered fists.

"This…is…not…funny," Lance ground out between clenched teeth.

At the murderous look on his friend's face, Pietro swallowed the urge for further jokes. "Ok, ok, look, we can fix this!" He patted Lance's grody, furry fists in a placating gesture, and successfully stifled the urge to wince at the nastiness in such close proximity to his face.

"How do you plan to do that?" Lance growled.

"Well, we'll just wash it, properly this time, see what the damage is, then snip snip, and you'll be good as new!" Pietro babbled at speed, the furious look on Lance's face making him jittery.

"SNIP SNIP? YOU WANT TO CUT OFF MY HAIR?" the earth-shaker roared.

Pietro own temper flared, "Hey, I didn't do this to you, dumbass, so quit screaming at me!" He twisted angrily in his friend's vice-like grip on his shirt. "It's either I cut it and fix this clusterfuck or-" He reached up to take a lock of mangled hair and easily broke it off with a twist of his finger.

Lance's eyes widened comically at the sight of another piece of his precious mane parting company with his head. "Oh god," he moaned in horror.

"There, there, you big baby," Pietro tutted with only a trace of sarcasm as he pulled Lance's fists free of his now disgusting shirt. "C'mon, we'll get this sorted out." He lead the now almost catatonic with shock mutant out of the garage and plopped him on the stoop of the back porch. He was back in a flash with a kitchen chair and an armload of supplies.

"Sit." He ordered, pushing Lance into the chair he placed on the grass. "Head back." He tipped his friend's head back so his neck hung over the back of the chair. "Close your eyes." Lance's eyes slid shut obediently, but at the worry lines creasing his tan face Pietro patted his cheek. "Breathe, Lance, I'm just to going wash this shit out right now." Lance nodded, the tension in his face not leaving until he gasped in surprise.

"Fuck, that's cold!" he howled as Pietro turned the water hose on over his scalp.

"Well, you can't use the shower. All the hair falling out would clog the drain and then we'd be screwed," Pietro stated.

"Falling out!" Lance bolted upright, cold water splashing down his back.

"Oh my freaking god, you are worse than any girl," Pietro huffed as he clamped a hard hand on his friend's forehead and forcefully bent his neck back over the chair. "It's not falling out at the scalp, just the ends, so calm down!" he barked.

Lance slumped in defeat in the chair, eyes clenched shut in barely coiled panic. Pietro softened a bit at his distress. "Hey, Rockstar," he soothed, "I wouldn't let my boyfriend go around with a bad haircut, now would I?"

Lance opened one eye and, miraculously, gave a half-smirk. "Boyfriend, huh?" he questioned sarcastically.

Unfazed, Pietro shrugged as he ran the cold water under the back of Lance's neck, gently massaging the abused strands. "Would you prefer loverrrrrrrrrrrrrrr?" he purred. Lance snorted his opinion at that one. "Of course, I could introduce you as That Guy Who Sneaks In My Room At Night And Makes Me Suck His-"

"Boyfriend is fine," Lance interrupted, practically choking. "And who would you introduce to me to anyways?" He shot a curious look up at Pietro as the other boy leaned over him, working shampoo into his hair.

"My father," the speed demon said nonchalantly. Lance really did choke that time and got a splash from the hose in his face in response. "I'm kidding, asshole." Pietro grinned as Lance dashed the water from his eyes.

"Having him kill me would be an efficient way to break up," Lance retorted as he leaned his head back once more into Pietro's ministering hands as he rubbed the suds in nice little circles.

Pietro continued massaging his head, talented fingers swirling along Lance's temples. Despite the mess, the speedster enjoyed tracing down Lance's hairline behind his ears to do something pretty fun things to the back of his neck and the base of the skull. As he worked Pietro educated Lance of the various points his hair resuscitation. Two scrubs with clarifying shampoo to strip out the oil and gunk, followed by a moisturizing shampoo to restore chemical balance, then a deep conditioning treatment for 10 minutes to hopefully seal the shaft of whatever hair wasn't damaged beyond repair.

Pietro informed a relieved Lance that only the last 4-5 inches of his hair had fallen in the oil and taken the brunt of the damage from the degreaser, i.e. he wouldn't need a crew cut.

As he finger combed the conditioner through the brunette's hair over and over again, rubbing it into the shattered ends, Pietro hummed "You're So Vain" by Carly Simon. Lance shifted lower in the chair as he relaxed into his newly christened boyfriend's touch, the sensual slide of fingers over his scalp, lightly scratching as the silver speedster worked the conditioner in deeply. The pads of the silver haired teen's fingers worked at the base of his skull, up and down and back again, tugging gently on his hair as he hummed some distantly familiar song.

"Hmmm, feels good, 'Tro," Lance sighed with pleasure, shifting slightly as goose bumps ran down his arms.

Pietro raised an eyebrow at that interesting murmur and considered giving him a quick mouthful of tongue but found an unannounced cold dash of water over Lance's head much more satisfying.

"You are such a dick!" Lance yelped as cold water streamed down his back when he sat up in shock for the second time.

"Yup," Pietro agreed absently. He grinned to himself as Lance fell for his trap and stripped off his now soaked shirt with an annoyed grunt, giving the speed demon a dirty look before he closed his eyes and leaned back once more to let him finish. Pietro took more time that strictly necessary rinsing the conditioner out in order to feast his eyes on Lance's body. His eyes traced hungrily over the tan chest and abs he'd spent the better part of the other night outlining with his tongue.

Down boy. Pietro glared at his crotch as it stirred. There was work to do and Lance's hair and self-esteem to save. Christ, the earthshaker acted like he was Samson and losing a few inches of hair would take away his mutant powers. Pfft.

Pietro was determined to send that damned mullet back to the '80s where it belonged but still keep enough length that he could tug on hard they way he did the other day. When he did Lance had made this freaking sweet noise and…c'mon, down boy!

Pietro shifted to relieve the pressure on his zipper as he stood behind his teammate and toweled his hair dry. He did not need a boner distracting him from the critical business of hairstyling. He draped the damp towel around Lance's shoulders, grabbed a comb and ran it through the dark strands until he was satisfied it was untangled enough for the real work to begin.

As he lifted the scissors, Pietro brought them around so Lance could see them. "Take a deep breath, this won't hurt a bit," he teased. "And one joke about gay hairdressers and WILL stab you in the eye."

The audible click on Lance closing his mouth made Pietro smirk. Right before he made the first cut, Lance shifted then coughed, then shifted to the other side. "What?" Peitro barked.

"Uh, you sure you know what're doing, Pietro?" Lance tilted his head back until he was looking at his teammate upside down.

The silver haired teen sighed and clenched the bridge of his nose with his fingers in the universal Lord-give-me-strength gesture. "Lance, I do my own hair. I wouldn't trust these fabulous lock to some hack." He patted back one sleek silver wing and grinned at the dubious look the other mutant gave him. "Don't worry, this look is a Maximoff one of a kind. You couldn't handle it, no style. Something that will soon be remedied!" He patted his teammate on the top of the head a little too hard then positioned it forward again.

"Ok, just don't take off more than is absolutely necessary."

"I know, Lance."

"I don't want it too short."

"I KNOW, Lance."

"Nothing emo either."

"Remember what I said about eye stabbing?" That made him shut up.

Pietro ran his fingers through the dark hair down andm holding up a lock perpendicular to his scalp, he cut off several damaged inches with a flourish then dropped them in Lance lap. The whimpering almost made him laugh.

"Trust me, you'll be fabulous," Pietro announced, which made other teen half-rise from his chair. The speedster clamped a hard hand on his shoulder and bodily forced him back down. "In an incredibly masculine and not gay at all way," he snarled. "Sit!" He rapped the other mutant sharply on the head with his knuckles. "First cut's the hardest."

With a noticeable lack of speed, Pietro carefully combed, snipped, smoothed, and cut again, deftly removing the destroyed remains of the horrible mullet.

"Never heard you be so quiet," Lance said with an amused tone in his voice.

"You should know that hair serious business…or was that someone else crying over split ends in the garage?" Pietro quipped, snipping carefully but steadily as he pulled each lock up then smoothed it back down to check how it looked.

"I was NOT crying," the dark mutant grumbled.

"Of course not," Pietro said sleekly, "It was just one of your normal everyday hissy fits."

"I don't have hissy fits either." Lance arms crossed defensively over his chest.

"Hmm, if you say so," Pietro noted airily. "Soooo, what's new?"

"What's new? We live in the same house, stupid, if there was anything new you'd know," Lance rumbled, confused at the abrupt change of topic.

"It's called small talk, Rockhead. It's what you do when you get a haircut. Jeez, you'd think you'd never had one before." Pietro huffed as he pulled a large lock of hair up on top of Lance's head and secured it with a clip so he could layer the underneath.

"I dunno, I usually just grab the kitchen shears and-"

"Kitchen shears?" Pietro gasped in horror. "You such a caveman. You probably make fire by rubbing two sticks together, too."

"Me man, cook meat on fire!" Lance grunted loudly and thumped his chest.

"Very cute," the silver teen huffed sarcastically. "Sooooo what's new?" he tried again.

The other mutant shrugged, "I dunno, got detention for sleeping in class again, skipped that and got double detention."

"Well, that sure taught them, didn't it?" Pietro sniggered as he worked his way around the other side, pinning up more hair. He was sorely tempted to whip out his camera phone and steal a photo but knew Lance's freakout would ruin any potential pleasure at immortalizing his ridiculous appearance.

"No juicy gossip?" Pietro teased. "You seeing anyone special?"

"No one special," Lance said with a hint of humor. Scissors made an appearance bit too close to his left eyeball. "Uh, yeh, well there is someone."

He left Lance's hair still a little long in the back so it brushed his shoulders. Pietro ran his fingers up from the base of his neck to the top of his head to fashionably muss it then brushed his knuckles across his friend's neck to shoo away loose cutting that stuck to his skin.

"Oh, do tell! Is he hot?" Pietro grinned as he combed and cut and parted.

"Um, he's pretty cool, I guess…but kinda mouthy." A sharp rap of knuckles on his head once more and he added, "Ow, ok, jeez! He's got a nice ass."

Moving as he worked, Pietro bent his knees at his friend's side and leaned in to carefully works the sharp blades near his ear, then flicked some loose strands from his skin.

"Nice asses are nice," the speed demon noted blandly, although inwardly he preened at the compliment. Of course, his ass was nice; all that running was great for the glutes.

Two stubborn hairs stuck to Lance's tanned skin just wouldn't get lost so Pietro blew them off with a quick puff of air, smirking at the goosebumps his gesture raised.

"What else?" he fished; he loved compliments.

Pietro continued to lift and comb and carefully snip at thin Lance's wonderfully thick hair so it fell in a nice "hey I didn't do anything to it" way that was the key to awesome hair. He leaned down closer to his friend's face, holding a couple of strands on each side of his cheeks to make sure they were even.

Lance leaned in suddenly and kissed him. In surprise, Pietro almost did stab him in the eye with the scissors but forgot it a moment later when Lance's tongue stroked his in that delicious way that made him a little weak in the knees. Just as Pietro was getting into it, the other teen pulled back and smirked. "He's a pretty good kisser. Kinda slutty too."

"Fucking flirt," Pietro snickered as stepped back and eyes his teammate critically, before leaning over once more to give a final last tweak with a wee bit of styling product to the ends. "Viola! You're done," he pronounced as he whipped the towel from Lance's shoulders.

"How's it look?" His teammate's formerly relaxed stance immediately disappeared as he ran one hand gingerly over his head. He stifled a grimace as he felt how much shorter it was in the back.

Pietro walked around him in a circle, hand on his chin as he squinted, hmmmmed, walked back the other way, squinted some more. When it looked like Lance was going to yell at him he finally said, with no small amount of pride, "Very Sawyer."

"Who the hell is that?"

"The hood from Lost."

"Let me see," Lance said, anxiety coloring his voice, as he jumped up and practically ran up the stairs to Pietro's room to look at himself in the only mirror in the house not broken. Pietro took his time putting away his accoutrements and sweeping nasty clumps of ruined hair under the porch.

While he was confident in his fashion sense and hair styling abilities, Pietro wasn't as sure of Lance's reaction. The guy's mullet was like his teddy bear or some kind of stupid security blanket. Losing it might result in Lance throwing one of his epic tantrums and rocking the house off its foundation.

And people called Pietro a drama queen.

No angry shouts or the sound of things breaking was heard, so Pietro's gave in to his curiosity and tip-toed upstairs. He held his breath as he gingerly peered around the door and into his room, only to choke when he saw Lance posing in front of the mirror. When the other teen turned around to throw a wink over his shoulder at his own reflection Pietro laughed out loud.

"I take it you like it?" the pale speedster asked with satisfaction as he leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb, admiring his work. Hot damn. He'd thought Lance was hella fine before, but the shorter 'do really stepped up his game, and he was a SERIOUS hottie now. Pietro decided that anyone who tried to touch him would pull back only a bloody stump.

"Fucking-A dude, I look like awesome, like I should be in a band or something," Lance grinned the struck another unashamed pose in front of the mirror, flexing his bicep, as he peered through the fringe that fell artfully over one eye.

In a flash, Pietro was behind him, running fingers over said bicep, with a mischievous look in his eye. "Soooo…how're you gonna tip your stylist?" He punctuated his query with a slow lick up the side of Lance's neck, locking eyes with him in the mirror.

The dark teen's response was spectacular. He spun around, grabbed Pietro hard by the hips, and yanked him flush against his own hard body. Heat flared in dark eyes as his happy grin morphed into a dark smirk. Pietro's breath caught at that look as the earthshaker pushed him backwards across the room to shove him roughly up against the wall before slamming their lips together hard enough to make teeth click.

Pietro fisted hard hands into Lance's hair and pulled ferociously to yank the other teen's head back to expose his neck to attack. His efforts were rewarded with roughened hands scratching at his back through his messy shirt. His previously slow lick up Lance's neck was only a precursor to the trails of pleasurably painful bites and sucks he darted across dark skin that made the bigger boy groan throatily. The speed demon only paused to allow his teammate to yank his shirt over his head before he latched himself once again to tan flesh he couldn't seem to get enough of.

"Fuck, 'Tro," Lance muttered as one of his hands slid to Pietro's jeans to rip open the fly as the other clutched against his back, leaving bruises and marks that would need soothing later. Lance pushed hungrily against the speedster's frantic lips and pinned him against the wall with ever greater force, and he bit down on Pietro's lush lower lip.

Pietro tried to push back, to give himself room to maneuver Lance across the room and to the bed that beckoned like a siren's song, but found himself unable to fight the strong, searing pressure holding him in place.

"Lance," he panted, "let me…ugh…move."

"Not a chance, 'Tro," Lance drawled against his ear before sneaking his tongue in to tease the sensitive hollow in a way that almost made the silver haired boy give up his efforts to move. "Or don't you want your tip?" he said salaciously before giving his own hard bite the pale column of neck before him.

"Shit, love it when you talk dirty," Pietro gasped at the prickling feel of teeth against his flesh. "But you're all talk," he hissed in challenge. He knew that would move things along; Lance just couldn't resist a dare, especially in situations like this.

His jibe was met with a dark laugh that travelled lower until one pale pink nipple was captured between strong white teeth and tortured. "Oh god," he moaned at the sensation, and one of the hands that had been fisted in Lance's hair turned gentle and slid down to the back of his neck to pull the other teen ever closer, urging the tongue and touch that was slowly frying his synapses.

"Like, I said," Lance taunted as he slid experienced lips across Pietro's chest to worry his other nipple with a wide lick of his flat tongue, the heated texture of it wringing another curse from the speed demon, "kinda slutty."

Pietro started a smart remark that caught in his throat when Lance's other hand gripped his cock almost painfully through his quickly tightening jeans. "Oooo-kaayy," he moaned instead, more than ready to agree with anything as long as Lance made him squirm.

He needed more, more of these incredible sparks that danced along his nerves every spot that the earthshaker stroked and touched with nimble pets and strokes. That amazing tongue outlined his navel with wet swipes that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up at the same time calloused fingertips rippled along his ribs to sneak down the back of his jeans.

He couldn't take it anymore and pushed hard on dark shoulders. "Down, for Christ's sake!" he grunted, "You're killing me with this teasing shit."

The tanned teen raised his head to flash white teeth at the flustered boy pinned between him and the wall. "Always in a hurry, 'Tro," he said with an amused shake of his head. "You gotta learn to slow down," he whispered, dipping his head back down to dart his tongue into the indention of Pietro's hip, making the other boy buck hard against the strong hands pinning him in pace.

When his jeans came undone and puddle at his feet Pietro had no idea, and frankly didn't give a crap as long as Lance kept up his mind-blowing and sensual torture. Pietro was just on the verge of grabbing Lance by the head and forcing himself between his lips when he was unexpectedly spun around and pressed against the wall chest first.

"Wha-" he gasped from where his cheek was smashed against gritty dry wall.

"Just shut up and enjoy the ride," Lance muttered in his hair as he caressed Pietro's back in a long, lingering caress that made the other teen rise up on his toes unconsciously. Strong hands covered his, pressing them ever more firmly into the wall, a clear command to keep them there. Pietro shuddered with anticipation and nodded his agreement. God, when Lance got all bossy the best shit happened. An approving dark murmur slid down the back of his neck with Lance's strong lips.

Several fingers made an achingly long, teasing slide down to trace one firm cheek, then the other, pausing to dip in between in a way that made the silver teen shudder and hiss with rapture. Lance glided achingly across Pietro's back, marking his path with open mouthed presses that made the silver teen's skin prickle as each heated breath ghosted over it. He bucked when a lazy swipe of tongue mapped the small of his back at the same time Lance's other hand unexpectedly reached around to grab his aching shaft.

"Nnnhhhh!" Pietro grated through clenched teeth. The combined feel of Lance's tongue and fingers exploring him from behind and that wonderfully sure hand stroking him in front reduced the usually quick tongued mutant to half-formed groans and incoherent noises that might have been encouragement. Or slowly manifesting brain damage as his brain liquefied at the conflicting thrills battering his senses.

Brain damage definitely became the front-runner when one Lance's fingers pressed against a spot that had not yet been tested by the two teens. Pietro stiffened in surprise for a second, then relaxed and canted his hips back as he smirked into the drywall under his cheek. "About damn time," he sighed.

"Gonna shut that smart mouth, 'Tro," Lance threatened, even as a flash of white teeth showed he was smiling. True to his word, he pressed again at the same moment his tongue made an unexpected slide dooooown.

"Nnngh!"

"That's what I thought," Lance said smugly before he returned his attention to shattering Pietro's self-control with sensory overload from fore and aft. His tongue and fingers traced previously forbidden unexplored flesh as his other hand stroked and squeezed in that measured, steady pulse he knew drove the silver speedster bonkers.

Riding battering waves of pleasure from in front and behind, Pietro grunted and pushed into Lance's excruciating grip, withering under the delicious slide of calloused fingertips against pulsing veins that ridged the underside of his cock. He pulled back, drawing the dark teen's touch to the sensitive tip, then moaned in bliss as one thick finger pressed into him.

"Shit, ah ah ah!" he moaned in counterpoint to each movement.

"Good, yeh?" Lance murmured as he licked and soothed the frantically squirming mutant with soft kisses to one firm, pale cheek.

"F-f-f-fuck!" Pietro stuttered as he was assaulted from every angle. Oh god, this was it, Lance was going to kill him with pleasure, melt his freaking brain, and he didn't want it to stop ever ever ever. He bucked back again into the hand that was killing him with mouth-watering thrusts. "Mmmmmm! MMMMM!"

Lance bit down hard on one irresistible muscular buttock and pushed again, earning him a delicious shudder from the silver teen arched in front of him. He grinned and moved his other hand up and down, rubbing his thumb again and again under the leaking head of Pietro's cock, teasing the incredibly sensitive dip in bottom of it. When Pietro lunged into his touch once again Lance followed that ass he couldn't get enough off and pressed inside again, twirling his finger in circles until it brushed against a little lump.

"AHH! AAAHH! STOP STOP!" Pietro shouted, his back stiffening suddenly as he rose onto his toes and flattened himself against the wall.

"Shit, you okay?" Lance withdrew and stood, turning the shivering speedster to face him. "'Tro, god I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hu-" The rest of his apology was drowned in a fierce kiss that almost sent him to his knees once more.

"Wasn't g-going to l-l-last," Pietro stuttered against his lips. A delectable shiver raced through his body as he rubbed against Lance needily. "Didn't-didn't want to c-c-come yet!"

Lance laughed once before he slanted his lips over his boyfriend's again, tongue caressing quivering lips before plunging in to taste the sharp taste that was all 'Tro for a few moments. "Now you got the idea," he murmured before once against sliding down the slender, but impossibly strong, body he physically ached for, the abs he spent several slow minutes memorizing with his lips and tongue.

As he worked his way down inch by painfully arousing inch, Lance patiently worked to keep Pietro on the knife's edge of ecstasy with firm, steady strokes on his gorgeous dripping cock, without pushing him over. Pietro's breath quickened as Lance slid lower and lower until he was almost hyperventilating. When the dark teen finally slid luscious lips over his shaft, the speed cried out harshly and bit hit lip to keep from thrusting hard into the fiery heat.

Wanted this to last, needed this to last, had to…had to…had to…

One hand fisted in his own hair in attempt to ground him as the other gripped Lance's shoulder almost painfully, fingering flexing each time the dark head bobbed down to lick and suck and ohhhhh god…

"Ah, ah, hnn, god, so good, Lance, fuck," he huffed as his chest heaved. Although his eyes were squeezed tight as he focused just on the wet, hot pulse of Lance's tongue and lips against his flesh, when the dark teen hummed Pietro's eyes shot open. He looked down to lock eyes with the earthshaker, whose dark eyes boiled like black coffee. One of Lance's hands was jerking his own cock with hard, almost painful looking strokes.

"So hot…on your…knees," Pietro hissed as his hips worked into the drawing pull of Lance's mouth. "Dirty fucking…hnnnn…boy," he moaned. The hand on the other boy's shoulder scurried up to wind in his hair as Lance plunged down once more and hummed hard against his base, cutting off Pietro stream of babble.

Lance would make the smart mouthed mutant shut up if it was the last thing he did, although he did enjoy the dirty talk something fierce. But Pietro running his mouth meant he didn't have his FULL attention, something he rectified when he slid his free hand under the silver teens ball's and pressed into him once more.

Pietro's teeth clicked together and he bit his tongue at the lava hot wave of bliss that flooded through him from Lance's combined efforts. He banged his head back against the wall hard, unconscious of everything but the pressure threatening to boil over in him. His muscles tightened spastically, forcing his back into an improbable arch, when Lance's questing fingers hit him right therrrrrre.

Pietro lost complete control of his reactions when Lance pushed into him HARD at the same moment he sucked powerfully at the silver demon's tip. He surged into Lance's mouth and his knees buckled at his orgasm. The earthshaker moaned audibly as Pietro grabbed his head and ground into his face, pulsing in rapid fire bursts on his tongue and into the back of his throat. Lance's finger slipped out and wrapped his arms around the speedster's waist, holding him up and even close as he swallowed again and again around the throbbing, heavy shaft in his mouth. The contractions of his throat forced several harsh cries from Pietro's throat as the pale teen finally spent himself and slumped.

Lance gave him one last long slow suck that made the speedster groan weakly in over-sensitized pleasure, before he slid up his body to press him once more against the wall. The dark teen slanted his lips forcefully over Pietro's, muffling his weak protestations, as he stroked himself hard and fast, grinding his hips against his boyfriend's in desperation.

Pietro's initial protest died as he tasted himself on Lance's tongue, salty and hot, and he threw his arms around his neck, wanting only to bury himself in that their combined taste. Spicy smoke and sweat and everything that was Lance. So strong, powerful, reckless, and demanding. God, why'd he ever wanted anything else?

Pietro moaned into his mouth, a low wanton noise, as he snaked his own hand down to aid the other teen's, lacing his pale fingers between Lance's own and squeezing hard. Lance's thrust amazingly, painfully, forcefully into their combined grip for a few more second before he yanked his head back and moaned, "'Tro…'Tro…'Tro."

Pietro feasted his eyes greedily on Lance's face as the powerful mutant came undone, eyes rolling back and his teeth bared in fierce grimace. Pietro darted down to bite his chest hard and Lance snapped with a wild sound, almost animal as he came in sizzling hot spurts on their stomachs.

"Unn…unnn…GNNHHH!" he panted with each jerk, until he too slumped, going momentarily boneless and dragging the sliver speedster down with him to the floor.

Pietro lay in an insensate mess, halfway propped against the wall and the rest of him sprawled across Lance's sweaty torso. It took several long minutes for both of them to regain the power of speech and fine motor control.

"Y'know, Rockstar," Pietro sighed, still fuzzy with all the crazy tingles that kept darting across his skin unexpectedly. "You have to get a trim at least once a month to keep this cut tidy," He couldn't keep the stupid smile off his face as one dark hand lazily traced his sticky abs while he stroked his boyfriend's now hopelessly messy hair.

"Mmmmm, I can live with that," came the muffled voice from somewhere around his shoulder where a tongue was still licking sweat from his pale flesh. "Hmmmm…next time you won't have to use the garden hose, right?"

The idea had merit to Pietro but not in the way Lance was probably thinking. "Nah, next time you can just take shower beforehand." He slid the rest of the way down the wall to melt into one satisfied puddle of Pietro. "If you're nice, I might join you," he murmured.

"What if I'm really bad?" the dark mutant asked, lifting his head to slide his lips slowly across the speedster's, licking once, twice at the corner of his mouth, the gesture full of heated promise. Goosebumps broke across Pietro's skin once again and he shivered as Lance's lips parted to let his nimble tongue dance and twine with Pietro's own once more. When a tan, calloused hand slid up the inside of his thigh the speed demon grabbed it to stop its upward movement.

"Then we're taking a shower right fucking now!" he hissed. In a moment the bedroom was empty and the only noise heard was the hiss of the water and laughter.


End file.
